Change Your Mind
by Pirate-x-Girls
Summary: 'Don't wanna have to say goodbye, all over again' You shouldn't have been here, you promised to stay away. But with her staying away was never an option. Inspired by the song 'Change Your Mind' from Nashville.
1. Chapter 1

**So this idea came to me a while back, and then it would keep coming back to me whenever I listened to the song it's inspired by (Change Your Mind from Nashville), which was a lot so I decided this week just to write it so I can actually focus on my other stories without this one nagging me! It's potentially a one shot but I do have an idea for a second part mapped out already, whether or not I write it depends on whether or not you guys want to read it! I'm absolutely in love with this song, and any other songs sung by Scarlett and Gunnar. I highly recommend listening to the song whilst reading this (and just in general) I had it on repeat whilst I wrote and it really helped visualise the story. To anyone reading this who is following my other Bechloe story (You Call Me A Bitch) there will be an update soon!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: All characters belong to Universal and the song belongs to ABC and whoever wrote it!**

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You know you shouldn't be here, this is a very bad idea, one that has the potential to really blow up in your face. But you've lived your life from one bad decision to the next so see no point in changing the habits of a lifetime now.

Really though you weren't left with a choice.

As soon as you saw the sign, the words scrawled somewhat messily in chalk you knew you were heading down a bad path. You knew you should turn back, walk away and never look back. It was the promise you had made.

You've never been good at keeping promises either.

Your feet guide you of their own accord through the simple wooden door with peeling paint that swings open with an impossibly loud squeak, the sound making you wince slightly. The inside of the bar is as shabby and peeled as the door, nothing like the sleek, polished establishments you're used to. But there's a certain charm here in the battered tables and chairs, none of them matching, that litter the floor in front of the large stage that stretches along most of the back wall. The portraits that hang on the wall of past performers, some you recognise, most you don't.

It's busy, but not to the point where you feel closed in. People mill around, almost exclusively drinking pints of beer, you see the odd glass of wine or shot glass but this is a beer place. None of these fancy cocktails you've become so used to drinking, the thought brings a small smile to your face as you make your way through the crowd to the bar, it's been a long time since you've indulged in a beer.

The first sip of your drink is deliciously cold, the taste helping to relieve some of the nervousness you've felt building in your stomach ever since you saw the sign. You remind yourself once again that you shouldn't be here, that you should put your beer down and walk away, out the door, down the street, to the airport and get on a plane.

You get as far as placing your beer on the bar, mind trying to force your legs into movement, but something is keeping you grounded, rooted to the spot. You know exactly what it is, it's the same thing that's had you grounded for years, the thing you threw away and the one thing you know you will always come back to.

With a sigh you pick your beer up again, you're not able to walk away. Once again you're too weak to keep your promise. To take your mind off your mournful thoughts you distract yourself by looking round the bar once again, allowing the sound of gentle conversation and the country songs playing through muffled speakers to wash over you. All of the tables are full, people sat angled towards the stage which has a spotlight trained on the middle where a solitary stool stands, a microphone in front of it.

People are starting to glance in your direction, recognition sparking in the eyes of a few. You didn't realise that your music and image had made it this far south or that anyone in this country bar has an interest in your mixes, but then again your album and songs have been blasted on pretty much very radio station in the country for the past 6 months so it makes sense that at least some people realise who you are. It could also be the ear spikes that you've taken to wearing again, a last ditch attempt to try and recapture the past, or the snapback nestled backwards on your head that has people staring. You aren't exactly blending in with the locals.

Looking down you realise your beer is empty and you turn back to the bar, raising a hand to order another one. The barmaid rakes her eyes up and down your body as she pours your drink, a flirtatious smile pulling at her face. On any other day you might have engaged her in conversation, taken her back to your hotel room and gotten lost in her for a few hours. It wouldn't be the first or even the tenth time you've done it. You'll do anything to dull the ache in your heart, but it never works, no matter how much you drink or however many women you sleep with nothing works and every morning you wake with a start, hands reaching for something that isn't there.

But not tonight, tonight you don't want to try and forget the pain. You want to feel all of it, it's your penance for making the stupid decision to come through the door, you know you can't fix things, your chance at redemption is long gone. But your selfish desire to try is what's driven you here and now you have to see it through.

The barmaid seems to realise you're elsewhere and the smile drops from her face, she places your drink and takes your money, accepting your insistence to keep the change before moving away where she is immediately engaged in conversation by a male patron who appears to show her the attention she craves. Your eyes are already back on the stage, which is no longer empty. A man stands in front of the microphone, a wide brimmed hat on his head casting his face into shadow. He starts speaking and you're hard pressed to make out a single word he's saying his accent is so thick. He appears to say something that the crowd likes, many of them whooping loudly as he exits the stage.

He is replaced by a young man, also in a wide brimmed hat and nervously clutching a guitar. He introduces himself in a shaky voice and you can't help but feel sorry for him, you can see him trembling from here. Taking a deep breath, the young man starts to strum gently, the first few notes are a little hesitant but as soon as he starts singing the nervousness seems to melt away instantly and you can't help the slight widening of your eyes at the transformation. He's bolstered by the music, a wide smile breaking his face as he belts out the lyrics to a song you know you've heard before but can't place. You were never much good with country music; it didn't lend itself to mixing so you ignored it.

After two songs the man leaves the stage, the crowd cheering loudly. The next act that follows isn't as good, but enjoyable none the less, the upbeat music helps to relieve some of the tension you've been feeling, helped enormously by the beer, you're on your third now. The mood of the crowd is infectious and despite yourself you smile along with them, even clapping to the beat occasionally. You draw the line at foot stamping although there is a lot of that going on, people who were seated before are now on their feet, glasses raised high in the air in appreciation of the musicians.

As the acts wear on you settle into a stool at the bar, within easy reach of more alcohol. With each one that passes you tell yourself you should leave, there's still time, you can get up walk out of the door and it'll be like you were never here. That's what you should do, staying is only going to make things worse, you have a life you can get back to, a life where you can forget about this little country bar, with its quaint furniture and friendly staff. You can leave this quiet town, a place that seems content to plod along at its own pace, unburied and unfazed by the world around it. You can go back to the city, where life moves so fast you're sometimes worried it'll be over before you have a chance to live, but most of the time you're exhilarated, happy to be swept along by the fast pace of the people and places around you. You belong in the city, it's your home.

But you don't move, you stay put, eyes trained on the stage. The latest act has just finished and the man with the shadowy face is back calling for quiet, you still can't understand much of what he's saying but you hear the reverence in his voice as he introduces the final act. This person is special to him.

They're special to you too.

This is what you've been waiting for, this is the reason you've sat for the last few hours, unmoving. This is what was promised on the sign outside that drew you in, even though you knew about it long before this evening.

You realise that you're holding your breath.

The entire world slows as _she_ steps out onto the stage.

You should have expected the breath to be driven from your lungs at the sight of her, you should have expected your heart to beat ten times faster than usual. You should have expected to feel like the world suddenly makes sense again after months and months of confusion and chaos.

You should expect to feel all these things because it's what happens every time you see her, since the first time you locked eyes at the activities fair all those years ago and ever since then your body reacts the same way.

Despite expecting it they still hit you like a punch in the gut.

She's still as beautiful as you remember, more so even. Her hair, a brighter red than ever in the glow of the spotlight hangs down loosely over her shoulders, just the way you love her wearing it. It appears she works here; her clothes are the same as the girl who served you behind the bar. You wonder how it was you haven't seen her earlier in the evening, maybe she only just started working.

Standing in front of the microphone she's smiling broadly, the same smile you've seen a million times before but know you will never get tired of seeing. There was a time when your reason for getting up in the morning was the prospect of seeing that smile, it was all you needed. But those days are long gone now, lost with the hundreds of other regrets you've managed to amass, most of them revolving around the beautiful redhead on the stage in front of you.

She's speaking now and that's when you realise she isn't alone. The nervous young man is back on stage with her, still clutching his guitar and smiling out at the crowd. He's good looking in a roughish kind of way, with short fluffy brown hair and the hint of a moustache, he towers over the redhead, lanky limbs not quite sure what to do with themselves. He seems less nervous this time around, his smile coming easier and more naturally, you know it's down to her. She's always had a calming presence, despite her over the top bubbly personality she knows exactly what to do to make people feel comfortable no matter the situation. It's one of the reasons you fell in love with her, she let you be you.

The two are conversing quietly away from the microphone, clearly deciding on a song to sing. You turn away to order another drink; you know you should stop. The other drinks have hit and you feel a little lightheaded, but now you've seen her you need to the courage, the stupidity of what you're doing hitting you full force. The barmaid pours your drink, watching you carefully, again you contemplate her company but dismiss the idea almost immediately. There's no girl in the room who can even come close to the woman on the stage.

Accepting your drink with a smile and a nod you turn your head back in the direction of the stage.

At the exact same moment that she looks up.

Your eyes meet.

For a moment you're frozen, the intensity of her stare is pinning you in place. Shock is the first emotion you see reflected in her bright blue eyes, but it's quickly replaced by a look of grim acceptance. It's almost as if she knew you were here, as if she was able to sense your presence.

You force your face to react, lips pulling up in what you hope is a reassuring smile. It doesn't work, her expression is cold now, it's the same expression she wore when you left. It's haunted you ever since that moment, following you on all your travels like a perpetual raincloud. The smile dies on your lips and you glance away, knowing you've lost this first battle.

The man had started playing an upbeat introduction on his guitar, tapping his foot enthusiastically to the rhythm, but as you look away she speaks low in his ear, the tune trailing off. They speak together for a moment before he gives a nod, although his expression is confused.

The next introduction is soft, gentle strings that lift round the now silent room. The crowd doesn't seem to know what to make of the change in tone, but you know exactly what's happening.

This song is for you.

 _When you wake up wanting me  
_ _And you can't go back to sleep  
_ _Change your mind_

 _When you're weak and all alone  
_ _And you're reaching for the phone  
_ _Change your mind_

Her voice is still as hauntingly beautiful as you remember, clear and purer than anything else you've heard before. Immediately you're slammed by all of the memories of all the times you've sung together, and the force of them is almost overwhelming. You've imagined her voice so many times since you parted, often allowing the memory of it to lull you to sleep on the long nights on the road, but your memory is nothing compared to the real thing.

 _Keep on going till you're gone  
_ _Even when you think it's wrong  
_ _The moment that you left_

She's looking straight at you again as she sings, her gaze piercing into your very soul. It's a skill she's always had, ever since you first met, to be able to see past the walls you'd built, tearing them down brick by brick until there was nothing left.

 _Change your mind  
_ _Baby don't come back this time  
_ _Don't wanna have to say goodbye  
_ _All over again_

Her companion joins in at the chorus, his voice softer, but blending perfectly with hers in a way that has you envious. They share a look on stage, a look that you immediately see is far more than professional. You know that look because you've seen it before, you've seen it directed at you more times than you could care to count, it immediately has the jealously boiling in your stomach even though you know you have no right to be jealous. Her eyes are back on you and you know that she can see the jealously, you were never good at hiding your negative emotions, least of all from her.

 _So if you think there's still a chance to make it right  
_ _And I'm the only one you want tonight  
_ _Change your mind  
_ _Change your mind_

You can hear the pain in her words as she sings, and it's like a knife to the heart knowing that you're the cause. She must have written this song, the emotion and sincerity with which she sings only comes from her own lyrics, the thought causes a lump to rise in your throat pushing down the jealously. You're the reason the sparkle has dimmed in her eyes, her smile isn't quite as bright, quite as hopeful and you realise that if she's losing hope than there's definitely none for you.

Your mind is screaming at you to move, to get out. You knew this was a mistake from the second you decided to walk through the door, you know you should leave before you cause any more damage than you already have done. It's not fair of you to intrude on her life, especially seeing as you were the one that walked out of it in the first place. But you can't move, you can't move because _her_ voice is keeping you anchored in place. The song, _this_ song that she wrote for you, so you would know what you had done, means you can't leave. She would never forgive you if you did.

Your punishment is to hear what she thinks of you, in the deepest, most intimate form of communication the two of you have.

 _In the early morning haze  
_ _When my kiss is all you crave  
_ _Let it go_

 _Cause I don't wanna do that dance  
_ _The push and pull, the second chance  
_ _I already know  
_ _Yeah I know_

Her eyes are closed now, pressed tightly shut in a way you know means she's fighting back tears. This song is about memory and with each word you're forced to relive all the moments of your relationship you wish you could take back, all the times you hurt her with sharp, unintended words. And of course the time you shattered her heart by walking away when she pleaded with you to stay, after she had begged you. You know she's reliving the same moments in her own head, and you wonder if she thinks about them as often as you do, you hope she doesn't. She doesn't deserve to be constantly revisiting the pain you've given her, and as much as you hate to think about it, there's a part of you that is glad she's moved on.

It's a small part, but it's there none the less.

 _You'll just promise me forever  
_ _And then you'll take it back just like that  
_ _Say you can't live without me then you'll_

 _Change your mind  
_ _Baby don't come back this time  
_ _Don't wanna have to say goodbye  
_ _All over again_

 _So if you think there's still a chance to make this right  
_ _Change your mind  
_ _Cos I don't wanna have to say goodbye  
_ _All over again_

 _So if you think there's still a chance to make it right  
_ _And I'm the only one, the one you want tonight  
_ _Change your mind  
_ _Change your mind  
_ _Change your mind_

The song finishes the way it started, with her eyes locked on yours and the last note fading out to a silent room. The silence lasts mere seconds though before the gathered crowd erupts in cheers and screams. The attention brings a faint blush to her cheeks as she hops off the stool, giving her adoring audience a little bow before accepting the hug her companion bestows on her.

You down the rest of your drink, shifting slightly on your seat, it's time to leave. You've seen her, you've heard her song. Now is the time to go before you get yourself in any deeper than you already are.

When you look up again it's because you feel her eyes on you, she's standing at the back of the bar, half hidden in the shadows. Even from here you can see the indecision on her face, can see the battle that's raging within her. You stare right back, determined this time not to give in an inch, not to lose this fight. You've lost too much already.

After a few moments she breaks, turning away she disappears through a door.

She doesn't want you to follow her, but she knows you well enough to know you will.

You always have.

The door leads to a small corridor, as you hurry down it you see a flash of red turning the corner ahead. Increasing your pace you round the corner and pass through the first open door, finding yourself in a store cupboard. Crates of bottles and boxes of crisps stack the walls, making the room feel small and sheltered.

She's waiting for you, turned away and leaning against a crate, shoulders hunched as if in pain. You linger in the doorway, not sure how to proceed.

"How did you find me?" the question is softly spoken and you almost don't catch it as she turns to face you. Eyes hard and expression harder.

"One of the people on the tour came onto the bus the other day raving about the gorgeous redhead with ice blue eyes singing in the local country bar. I knew you were around here so didn't take much to figure out it was you." You hope the compliment and the smile will soften her expression but it remains uncharacteristically stony as she regards you in silence.

"So you just decided to show up?" the accusation is laced with contempt and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard to you. She never spoke like this before; this is all you.

"I…" You trail off not sure how to put into words how you agonised over whether or not you should come, for days you had paced your bus, arguing both sides over and over again.

Until the urge to see her face had become too strong.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever." Your apology is brushed away and you bite down your retort, you deserve all of this and you can't deny her it. "Why are you here?"

You don't answer right away, in truth you're not entirely sure why you decided to come. You could say you wanted to see her, and that would be true. To an extent. Your reasons run deeper and more complicated than that, you want atonement for your sins but at the same time you want her to scream and shout, to punish you. You want closure, a chance for both of you to move on, but there's a part of you that wants another chance. You want to get down on your hands and knees and beg her for forgiveness, you want to promise it will change, that you can change.

But the lyrics of her song ring in your ears, you've promised her the world before. You promised it to her after your victory in Europe when the whole world was open to the both of you and the future was so bright it blinded you both, made you naive and childish. You should have realised that life wouldn't take a back seat, you should have realised that happy endings don't just happen.

It was a hard learned lesson, for the both of you.

She takes your silence as a sign you have nothing to say and scoffs, another foreign sound to your ears.

"That song was really good." You sense she wants to leave and say the first thing that comes into your head, anything to get her to stay. Maybe if she stays long enough you'll be able to put the hundreds of words you have in your head that you want to tell her into some form of coherent sentence. "You wrote it?"

"Yes." For a moment you think it's the only answer you're going to get, but then she speaks again. "I guess it really is true that a broken heart prompts the best writing."

You wince at the harshness in her tone, it's a low blow, but one that you fully deserve so you take it without complaint. The silence descends again between the two of you, somehow it seems deafening, you've always been able to speak to each other. She was the only person you spoke openly with, and now you can't seem to find any words to say.

"I thought you'd decided to teach?" you're grasping at straws and you know it.

"I am. I'm back at school, I have this job to pay the bills until I'm qualified." She knows it too and her clipped words tell you she's not going to help you, it's another reminder of the damage you've done. No matter how angry you got at each other she would always help, she would guide your bumbled attempts at apologies. You're not going to be let off this time, you're going to have to work hard.

"I'm happy you decided to chase your dream."

"Not my first dream."

The guilt that's been festering in you for months is made a million times worse at the bitterness in her tone. She sounds older, wearer. Her rosy view of the world has been dulled and once again you have to face the facts head on.

You're the reason she's like this.

"What do you want Beca?" it's the first time you've heard her speak your name for close to a year and it takes you by surprise. You've heard it hundreds of times before, you've heard it playfully called when she walked in the door, you've heard it said lovingly as you lay on the sofa on rainy Sunday afternoons, you've heard it breathed through parted lips as you bring her to the brink of ecstasy.

You've never heard your name spoken by her like you're a stranger.

You suppose you shouldn't be surprised, there are times you look in the mirror and hardly recognise yourself. Of course she looks at you and sees a stranger, it's impossible to believe that the woman who loved her more than she thought possible would ever walk out on her, walk out on them.

Only a stranger could do that.

"I wanted to explain." Your own answer surprises you, your plan coming here had never involved explaining anything, mostly because you didn't have a plan. "I need you to understand."

"Oh I understand perfectly." Her arms are crossed over a chest, mirroring the look Aubrey used to give you when she thought you were bullshitting, which was most of your freshman year. The gesture doesn't look right on her and you open your mouth to tell her so before you catch yourself.

"I don't think you do, I never meant to hurt you. I was just doing what I thought was best."

"You chose the music over me."

"Would you have chosen any differently?" the question is out of your mouth before you can stop it.

For a moment it seems she's going to kick you out, the hard line of her mouth is back and her eyes are steely, but then she sighs heavily, all of the anger leaving her body with the exhale.

"No, probably not."

The admission is muttered in defeat and you almost reach out but rein yourself in at the last second. It's not your place to comfort her anymore, you gave up that right. She's turned away from you again, hands pressed heavily against one of the crates, the bottles inside clink gently together as her hands shake.

"You didn't even consider waiting for me."

"I didn't have the time to wait, it was a once in a lifetime deal. I had to decide." You take a tentative step forwards.

"It was so easy for you to walk away." Her voice is now a whisper.

"Believe me it was the hardest thing I've ever done." Your mind flashes back to the day you left, how many times you almost turned back. "I wanted to come back as soon as I'd walked out the door."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because..."

"Yeah I know, because 'the music is everything'" She spins round, the defeated slump of her shoulders gone, anger flashing on her eyes.

"You told me you understood."

"I expected you to fight for us!" she's yelling now and part of you is relieved it bring emotion to her face and you'll gladly take it any day if it gets rid of the tired look in her eyes. "I understood that you needed to move on, what I didn't expect was for you to leave me behind, after everything we've been through."

"I was going to come back for you, I just needed time. Time to figure out what I wanted."

"I waited three years for you to figure out what you wanted." She bites back bitterly and you flinch. It's very rare for her to bring up the topic of you and Jesse, how you stayed with him for three years despite knowing you were head over heels for someone else, for her. Even when she did bring it up, it was never in anger. But now, now it's her ammunition and it's powerful hitting you like a slap to the face.

"Chlo." The nickname escapes your lips and you reach out, this time desperate to comfort her.

"No!" She jerks away from your outstretched hand. "You don't get to do that!" you drop your hand instantly but don't step back, you've reached a turning point. You can give up now and leave, turn around and leave her to her life and you go back to yours. Or you can keep going, you can keep treading further down the path that has brought you here.

This is the point of no return.

Your decision is made evident when you take a step closer.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I left you behind, I'm sorry I..."

"Don't." The single word stops your apology dead in its tracks.

"I can't do this Beca. Seeing you here it's..." She trails off, searching for the words. "...it's too hard."

You take another step forward, you're less than three feet away now, and she's so beautiful it hurts. Even with the tears shining unshed in her eyes.

"I love you." Your voice cracks with the words and you realise it's the first time you've said them in a long time. "I miss you. So much."

Her bottom lip is trembling a sure sign she's on the brink of crying, you're so close now you can feel her breath on your cheek. Your body traps her against the crates, but she can leave if she wants to, you would never make her stay.

"Tell me to leave and I will. If you can look me in the eye and tell me to go I will, I'll walk out of here and never come back. But you have to tell me." You're in no position to be making demands but you need to know. If there's no hope for you then you want to be able to walk away without prolonging the pain. You don't think your heart can take seeing her break again.

She's silent for a long time, eyes never leaving yours. You search them intently looking for any clue to what she's thinking, but it appears she's gotten good at hiding her emotions, her usually bright eyes are guarded.

You're about to retreat when she finally speaks.

"Goddammit Beca."

Before you can open your mouth to ask what she means she's surged forward, lips connecting roughly with yours, hands grasping the back of your neck painfully. Your gasp is swallowed by her kiss and she takes immediate advantage of your open mouth to slip her tongue in to tangle against your own.

It takes your brain a few precious seconds to catch up and then you're kissing her back as if she's the very air you need to breathe. It's all so familiar, like coming home after a long journey but at the same time it feels new, you've never shared a kiss like this before and as your hands find their way to her hips, pulling her closer whilst pressing her against the crates you can't help the feeling of wanting to pinch yourself, to check this is actually happening.

Suddenly you find yourself moving and then your back is being slammed against the crates, her body is pressed along the length of you and you moan at the contact. Her lips as still moving furiously against yours and it's a struggle to keep up, this kiss is messy and out of control, her hands have moved from your neck and down your arms, fingers digging into the skin. You don't protest against the pain, if anything your relish it. It's a sign she still feels something and the thought of that has you wrapping your arms round her waist as tightly as you, desperate not to let her go. You want to hold onto this for as long as you can.

You're not stupid, you know that this could end at any second and you don't want to waste it, you'll take whatever she feels like giving you.

You moan loudly when she bites down hard on your lip, hands move away from your body so she can press them into the crates on either side of you, nails gouging soft lines in the wood. You respond in kind, sinking your teeth into her lower lip, swallowing her quiet gasp before running your tongue across the site, soothing the ache.

The need to breathe finally drives you apart, although with a certain reluctance. She presses her forehead against yours, breath coming out in deep pants match your own and ghost over your face. Her eyes are squeezed tightly closed and you can feel her whole body trembling, you slide your hands round her waist, rubbing long soothing circles into her back. Her only reaction is to press your bodies that bit closer together, then her lips find yours again, a soft kiss that is barely started before she's pulling away again.

The only sound in the room is the sound of your heavy breaths as she pushes herself away from you, putting some distance between the two of you. You long to reach out and draw her back in, but you keep your hands by your sides. This is on her terms.

"I...I can't." Her voice is a croak and you're sure you can hear your heart breaking as you realise what she means.

"Chloe." Her name is a plea on your lips, the same kind of plea she made to you when you walked out all the time ago. You suppose there's some kind of poetic justice in this, how it's all come full circle except this time it's her who's walking away.

She's backing up towards the door, eyes never leaving yours as she shakes her head. There's fear in her eyes and you can tell she's not scared of leaving. She's scared that she might stay.

"Please." It's your last attempt but you know it's futile, you can see it in her face.

She pauses in the doorway, the tears flowing freely down her face. "You promised Bec." The three words are spoken softly into the room and then she's gone, leaving you alone with your shattered heart and the memory of her kiss burning your lips.

You shouldn't have been here, you promised to stay away. But with her staying away was never an option.

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 **Well I hope you enjoyed that, let me know what you thought by leaving a review. Should it be a one shot or would you like to see it continued? I can tell you that if you'd like to see it continued the second part would contain drunk angry Chloe, kisses in the rain and maybe more than a little smut! ;) Anyway let me know! Until next time!**

 **Pirate-x-Girls**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the response to the first part of this! I was honestly blown away by all your kind words, and to thank you all properly I decided that this needed another part. This started off being relatively short, but by the time I had worked everything I wanted in it had kind of snowballed and is now a whopping 10,000 words. This has been an absolute pleasure to write and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! You will notice that the rating has now firmly changed to M, and I think we all know why that is!**

 **For anyone following You Call Me A Bitch and Flashes updates for both are in the works and I hope to have them up as soon as possible, but for now please enjoy this second and (maybe) final part of this fic! Enjoy!**

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The rain pounding on the roof of your motel room is starting to give you a headache. Of course that headache could also be attributed to the obscene amount you've had to drink. The room is spinning slightly as you lie on your bed, staring unseeing up at the grotty ceiling, lost in your thoughts which have started to become a bit fuzzy.

It's been three hours since you were left standing alone in the storage room of a small country bar. It's been three hours since you've felt Chloe's lips against your own and when you close your eyes you can still feel her pressed against you. It's been three hours since you felt your heart break when she walked out the door and the ache in your chest has yet to abate. Each breath is painful, each inhale and exhale a sharp, painful reminder that it's finally over.

You're not kidding yourself, you walked into the bar tonight hoping that the sight of you would be enough to change her mind, that if you could get close enough she would find a way to forgive you and maybe, just maybe you would be able to move forward, together. While you were prepared to take any punishment she could give you, the optimistic part of you, the part that she created, believed that after you'd done your penance everything would be ok.

You should have realised that life doesn't work like that.

The sight of her walking away is burned into your mind and you are beginning to understand what it must have been like for her all that time ago to watch you walk out the door. You know that what you're feeling now is nothing compared to what she went through, you walked away from more than just her, you walked away from the life you had built together and the promise of a future. You made the choice and now that's exactly what she's done, you can't fault her for that. She chose to protect herself, to shut off her heart before you could break it again. To do that she needed to break your heart, it was kill or be killed. The Chloe you met all those years ago would have never even dreamed of choosing self-preservation, the idea of hurting anyone was abhorrent to her, she would fall on her sword over causing anyone pain every time.

It seems she's learned more from you than you thought.

The knowledge that your less desirable traits; your cynicism, pessimism and selfish nature have rubbed off on perhaps the one person who should never be exposed to those things has you resenting yourself even more than you already did.

You had stayed in the storage room for long moments after she left, a small part of you hoping she would come back, tell you that she can't walk away, that she can't leave you. But when you finally make it back to the bar and slump into a free chair there's no sight of her, it appears she's left the building all together. Her companion is cleaning up the stage and he kept shooting you long looks, eyes swirling with indecision, clearly torn between whether or not to approach. You wonder how much he knows, there's no anger in his expression, only pity. And somehow that's worse, at least if he was angry it would mean he still perceives you as a threat, competition for Chloe's affections, but pity, pity means you're out of the game as far as he's concerned.

You drink. Moving off beer you knock back shots, each one helping to numb the pain a little more. The bar staff cast concerned glasses to one another, but none interfere. Instead choosing to keep an eye on you as they go about their jobs. They must have realised you're the reason that Chloe's gone off, you suppose she must have told them about you.

You hoped nobody would think to call the press, your manager will have a duck fit if you're caught on camera off your face in some tiny bar. It's this thought that had finally pulled you to your feet and heading out the bar, making sure you left a very generous tip to the staff. You can carry on drinking in your room, away from prying eyes.

You could have stayed on your bus, but as soon as you'd found out where Chloe was you sent them ahead without you and checked yourself into a nearby motel. Your next press engagement wasn't for a few days and you needed the time alone. The decision had prompted protests from various members of your PR team, especially your publicist who knew of your propensity to drink too much and end up in the bed of any girl that took your fancy. They much preferred to be nearby when these things happened, damage control, she called it. The last thing you needed was a star struck fan running to the press with stories of a passionate one-night stand.

You had put your foot down, promising you would stay out of trouble and promising to be back in time for the next interview. You had so far kept your promise, you hadn't got into the kind of the trouble they would expect you too. However, you'd managed to land yourself in much deeper trouble of your own making, trouble that manifested in the form of the beautiful redhead who has stolen your heart and refuses to give it back.

You've been in the room for just over an hour, after making a stop at a 24-hour convenience store and picking up enough alcohol to satisfy at least five people. Since you got back you've been alternating between drinking and staring into space or sitting in front of your laptop trying to channel your pain into your music.

It's always been your greatest healer, whenever things have gone bad you knew you could always turn to the music, that it would always be there, a steady constant. When your dad left you created your first mix, an angry mash up of the bleakest most emo songs you can find, you still listen to it occasionally, it's a reminder of how far you've come. When your grandmother, the person you were closest too in the world, died after a long battle with cancer you made your first classical mash up, using her favourite pieces of music that you later played at her funeral, the first public exhibition of your work. When you broke up with the Jesse, the first thing you did, except call Chloe, was work on your music the familiar motions helping to quell the myriad of emotions that had flooded your system, the most prominent of them being your acceptance of your feelings for your best friend.

You're forced to stop mixing when the screen starts to blur in front of you, and your head is spinning. That's how you find yourself lying on the lumpy bed, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling as your mind replays the kiss Chloe gave you over and over again, torturing you.

There's never been anyone who can make you feel like she does, with one kiss she has set your whole body on fire with a passion and desire that threatens to consume you, and you know the only thing that can sate it is her.

With a groan you raise your head a few inches off the pillow and slam it back down, the ache between your thighs has only been building since the kiss and the only reason you're happy for it is because it eclipses the pain in your heart, just.

You refuse to do anything about it, although your entire body is screaming for it. Because if it goes, you'll have to deal with the pain of your heart breaking all over again, at least this way there's another type of discomfort that you can distract yourself.

Deciding another drink is in order, more to give your hands something to do than anything else, you roll off the bed hands and feet hitting the floor at the same time as the room starts spinning again. The last rational part of your brain says that's maybe you've had too much, that you will accomplish nothing by drowning your sorrows. This part of your brain, as so often happens is quickly pushed down by the rasher, impulsive side until the voice is barely a squeak and before you know it there's another glass of vodka in your hand and you're taking a large gulp.

The liquor is harsh as it slides down your throat, settling with a powerful burn in your chest and causing you to wince, but you keep drinking. It's the only thing that's dulling the pain and even though you know it's only a temporary thing, that when you wake up tomorrow everything is only going to hurt more, but you've never been good at forward planning, preferring to live your life from one moment to the next, never pausing to look too closely at the future.

It's what's caused most of the trouble in your life.

You slump back on the bed, mind looking back instead of forwards. Rewinding to all the big moments in the last few years, all the moments that got you to this place. Unsurprisingly, most, if not all of them involve Chloe.

You should have realised she was special the moment she burst into your shower, eyes bright and smile even brighter. Even then the gaze seemed to pierce straight through you, making you feel things you'd never felt before. It would take you well over three years and a lot of soul searching to confront exactly what those feelings were.

You will never admit it out loud, but you've been in love with Chloe Beale since the moment you laid eyes on her.

She had waited for you, patient as always. Never one to try and interrupt your relationship with Jesse, she actively encouraged its progress and it was only afterwards that you realised how difficult that must have been for her, how much you must have hurt her for all those years. She never resented you for it, even though you had asked many times in the years since why she had never said anything her answer had always been the same. 'I knew if it was meant to be you'd always come back to me' the same words always spoken with a casual shrug and a coy smile that had you falling in love all over again.

There was a selfish part of you that had expected her to wait once you walked out, she always had done before why would this time be any different. You were chasing your dream, there was little else in your head other than the completion of a fantasy you had had ever since you were old enough to know what it was you wanted, and in all the excitement you had forgotten her. You had made her second best, a place she has never been and never deserved to be. You hadn't realised it but she had put her own dreams on hold for you, there was a reason she had refused to graduate, and even after that she had always put you first, always pushed you to achieve the highest you could.

All she asked in return was that you take her with you.

A loud hammering on the door pulls you sharply back to the present, for a moment you wonder if you imagined it, all you can hear is the rain, which has somehow gotten louder. Sitting up on the bed you strain your ears, then the knock comes loudly again, more persistent this time. Whoever is on the other side is eager to get in. For a moment you consider not opening the door, just in case it's a dogged member of the press, this wouldn't be the first time they've followed you to a hotel room. But nobody knows you're here, you booked in under an alias and the hotel staff have been sworn to secrecy.

Eventually your curiosity gets the better of you and pushing yourself off the bed you head for the door, as another loud knock echoes round the room. Yanking the door fully open it takes you a moment to focus on who's on the other side of the door.

Chloe.

The first thing you notice is that she's soaking wet, hair plastered to the side of her head, clothes sodden and dripping. The second thing you notice is that she's drunk, evidenced by her slight swaying and unfocused eyes that are staring at you with something close to contempt. The third thing you notice is that despite this she is still the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"What...?"

" Fuck you Beca Mitchell!" the words are spat before you can verbalise a question and the venom behind them has you taking a step back.

"Fuck you." She repeats, hand coming up to the doorframe to steady herself.

"Chloe..." You begin again, but she cuts you off.

"I was doing so much better, I was healing." Her voice is still venomous, but there's something else behind it. "I wasn't better, but I was on my way to being." Leaning heavily against the doorframe she looks down at her feet. "And then you showed up."

"Chloe I never meant to..."

"What? Hurt me?" She looks up, eyes a little more focused. "You never did Bec, but somehow you managed." She snorts. "You really managed it."

You don't know what to say to that. You'll readily admit to yourself that you hurt her, but to hear her say it causes an icy chill to grip your heart. You take another step back, for the first time since you walked into the bar wanting to put space between you.

"How did you find me?" you echo her earlier question in the bar, needing to say something and finding it to be the only words you can verbalise.

"I called Jesse."

You nod, Jesse had taken on the job of being your manager when you'd been offered your contract, his dream of becoming a film composer was going nowhere and the prospect of rubbing shoulders with some of the country's biggest musical names was too good an opportunity to pass up. That and someone needed to keep an eye on you after your break up with Chloe, not that he would ever admit that's what he was doing. He was the reason your publicist had backed down about you staying in the motel, he had seen that you would stay regardless of what they had to say. It made sense that he would tell Chloe where you were, he had been the one picking up the pieces of your break up for almost a year. Ironically nobody more than Jesse wanted to see the two of you back together, he had lamented many times in the past year that the two of you were like something out of a movie. Passionate, explosive love he had called it.

"He said you abandoned your tour bus to be here." Chloe's speaking and again and you're pulled from your thoughts of one of Jesse's impassioned speeches about true love. It's hard to drag your thoughts back to the present with your brain fogged over by alcohol, Chloe's sudden appearance has helped to sober you up a little but you're still drunk enough that your brain is needed a few seconds to catch up.

Luckily for you Chloe is just as drunk, if not more so and it's clear she's in the same boat as you, if the slight shake of her head every few seconds is anything to go by.

"Yeah, I felt bringing my entire entourage to a small country bar wouldn't be the best idea." You finally manage to reply. Chloe gives a snort, her lips twitching in the closest imitation of a smile you've seen all evening.

"No." The smile is gone and the hard look is back in her eyes.

"Chloe listen I need you to under..."

"Why the hell were you there tonight!" For the third time in as many minutes you're cut off and you lapse into silence as Chloe glares at you.

"I told you."

"I'm not talking about your bullshit 'explanation'! Because let's face it, it hardly counted as an explanation!" Chloe runs a hand through her wet hair, sending droplets of water spraying into the room. "Why now? Why now did you decide that it'd be a great idea to come back and fuck up my life all over again?!" Chloe never swears, so hearing two profanities in the space of a couple of sentences is quite surprising, and only goes further to show you how angry she is.

"I didn't…I mean I wasn't…" the words won't seem to form and you can see Chloe's losing her patience.

"Do you have _any_ idea how long it's taken me to put myself back together?! I put _everything_ on hold, for you!" raising a finger she jabs it accusingly at you.

"I know you did and I'm so sorry Chlo!" you can feel tears threatening to form in your eyes at the mixture of pain and anger in her voice.

"No! You don't get to use that nickname!" Chloe shakes her head fiercely, more water into the room. "You gave up the right to use it when you walked out that door!"

"I know."

"No you don't know! And that's the problem!" her eyes are shinning with tears, she turns away before they fall and you have the quick thinking to look down at your feet. Not many people get to see Chloe Beale cry, sure most people knew she was prone to intense emotions and may have seen her tear up, but few people saw her properly cry.

You've only seen it a few times, you saw it when her grandfather passed away the previous year, you saw it when Aubrey announced she was moving to Australia, and, most heart wrenchingly of all you saw it the night you told her you were leaving.

It's another thing you've lost the right to see.

"Chloe, I know that nothing I say is going to make this better, but I _had_ to see you." You take a step forward, your first since you've opened the door. When she doesn't say anything you press on. "I know, I probably shouldn't have, but when I was told where you were it was like…I couldn't stay away, even if I wanted too. And then, and then I heard you sing…"

"So what?" the tears are gone and she's staring you down.

"You wrote that song for me."

"I wrote that song _about_ you. There's a big difference."

"You're still thinking about me."

"Of course I'm still thinking about you! You don't just forget about someone you love, well I guess you can!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" The alcohol mixed with the accusation in her tone has caused a defensive tone to creep into your voice.

"Oh please! Don't think I didn't hear the stories!"

"Stories?"

"Come on Beca! Just because we're down south doesn't mean we don't watch the news! I saw all the pictures of you with your girl's, a new one every week! All those late nights at the clubs, seems like you forgot about me _very_ quickly." There's a nastiness to her voice you've never heard before, you want to put it down to the drink but the one thing Chloe Beale can never be accused of being is a mean drunk.

"That didn't mean I'd forgotten about you! Those girls they were just…"

"What? A way to pass the time?!" she interjects again before you can get the words out, truth be told its starting to annoy you.

"You really think that? Is your opinion of me really that low?" the words come out past gritted teeth.

"Maybe it is." The three words are harsher than anything else you've heard tonight, from the deadpan way she delivers them to the stony look that accompanies them. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat that refuses to go away, you will yourself not to cry in front of her.

"If you really think that then why are you here?" you spit out your reply, hands clenching by your sides.

"You know what, I've been asking myself the same question. This was a bad idea; I shouldn't have come."

She turns and marches out the door and as soon as she's over the threshold the anger evaporates and you're scrambling into night, her name falling from your lips in a desperate plea. You don't care that it's raining, you don't care that it's the middle of the night, you don't care that you left the door to your room open. All you care about is making sure she doesn't walk away from you for a second time.

She finally comes to a halt halfway across the parking lot, the rain is lashing down harder than ever and you're already soaked.

"It's not fair Bec!" there's a childish tinge to her tone and you realise this is more like the drunk Chloe you know, the one who pouts and stamps her foot when she doesn't get her way, and looks so adorable doing it that she usually gets what she wants.

She doesn't look adorable right now, the sight in front of you is heart breaking. In place of the confident, happy, optimistic girl you fell in love with is someone completely different, someone who doesn't know what to feel. Her facial expression has changed from one of anguish to a cold fury at least three times in the last ten seconds and you wonder which one it will finally settle on.

Unfortunately for you its cold fury.

"I mean, this is such a 'Beca Mitchell' thing to do!" your name is bracketed with air quotes and you can't help but frown, you have no idea what she means. She sees this and ploughs on immediately. "I mean you walk out on me, I don't hear from you for almost a year and then when it suits you, you decide it's fine for you to just waltz back into my life. Everything has to be done when _you_ want it to happen, breaking up with Jesse, being with me, _leaving_ me. It's all been on your timetable, nobody else gets a say." It's the second time she's mentioned your relationship with Jesse today and now you're the one who's starting to get a bit annoyed too.

"You never said anything whilst I was with Jesse, how was I supposed to know that you wanted me?"

She snorts. " _Everyone_ knew I wanted to be with you Beca! Even Jesse admitted it before you did! And why would I say something when I wasn't even sure you liked me back! I didn't know anything about your feelings for me until after World's!"

She's made a fair point and you know it, you had routinely run from or ignored your feelings for Chloe ever since you had met all those years ago. You rejected any idea that she might feel the same way about you, rationalising it to yourself that she acted that flirtatious and touchy feely around everyone, even though that was a lie and everyone knew it. Chloe loves giving people attention, she loves making them feel special, but with you it was on another level. She would take any excuse to touch you and more often than not you let her, more than you did with Jesse. It was little wonder he had guessed about both of you, it was there, staring everyone in the face but you. She had even dropped not so subtle hints, like in the tent at the retreat but you had ignored every single one of them. Your own cowardice depriving you of three more years with the girl of your dreams.

"You have no idea do you?! You have no idea how many nights I cried myself to sleep, staring at the door, wishing and praying that you'd come back through it. You have no idea how much of my life I put on hold for you, just to see you have a chance at your dream." The ranting is coming full force now and you can tell these are words she's been longing to say for months. "I kept thinking that maybe, maybe if I just waited a _little_ bit longer that I'd get you back, I mean hey, what's a few more months of waiting after years?!"

"I wanted to come back!" your voice has raised so you can not only be heard over her, but the rumbling of the thunder and the pounding of the rain on the concrete.

"But you didn't! You stayed away! For months and months, I hear nothing," she pauses as if her anger is getting the better of her. "But then I did see you, on the fucking TV! And then you were everywhere, when I wanted you with me you stayed away and then when I wanted to get you out of my head and move on I couldn't walk down the street without seeing you face, or turn on the radio without hearing your music!"

"You said you didn't want to speak to me, I was going to call so many times but I figured you wouldn't answer." You realise the excuse is lame as soon as you say it and it only serves to make her angrier.

"Of course I said that! You were leaving me and I was hurting, you were supposed to fight for me, you were supposed to keep calling even if I didn't pick up! You never fought for me!" she's crying freely now, angry tears that stream down her face, mixing with the rainwater. "I'm out here because I realised you weren't going to, and at least here I don't have to see your face on every TV station and hear your voice every time I want to listen to the radio! I've come here because I had to try and find a way to move on."

"Did it work?"

"What?!" your question has stumped her.

"Did it work? Did you move on?"

For a moment she stares at you, completely dumbfounded.

"I tried."

The words are barely out of her mouth before your drunken brain has you making a split second decision. Reaching out you grasp her upper arms, pulling her forwards until your lips meet, much like her earlier kiss it's desperation, anger and longing all rolled into one. For a moment you're afraid she's not going to kiss back, but then her hands are in your hair, her tongue is in your mouth and the whole world is reduced to one single thing.

Chloe.

She's all you can see, feel, taste, smell. Every sense is heightened to her and your body reacts instantly, your earlier arousal comes flooding back and you groan loudly in her mouth. Your hands are round her waist, fisting at her sodden shirt, trying to relieve some of the tension with your clenched fists.

All too soon she's pulling away. Hands pushing your shoulders so there's space between you.

"I shouldn't have done that." She pants. "I'm…"

"Seeing someone." You finish her sentence for her, words coming through clenched teeth as you try and get your body back under control. Every cell in your body is vibrating and your hands are twitching by your sides, it's taking everything in you not to lunge forward again. "That guy you were with on stage."

"How did you know?" her breathing has returned to normal but her eyes are still wide, even in the dark you can see her face is flushed.

"You think I don't know your looks, I used to live for them." You say, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

For the first time since that evening her expression is one of sympathy, she could never bear to see you upset and as her hand half raises before falling back down by her side you're bolstered that at least that hasn't gone away.

The rain keeps pouring as you stare at each other, you know this should be the end. This is the perfect time for you both to walk away before you hurt each other anymore than you already have, but you can't move, you're glued to the spot.

Both waiting for something.

"Fuck this."

You're reaching for her even as she's reaching for you. Lips, tongues and teeth clash in a heated kiss, impossibly more so than either of the other two. The coldness of the rain on your skin is in stark contrast to the fire that has erupted over every part of you, as your hands wind round her neck pulling her as close as you possibly can. It's still messy, but something has changed, it's tangible and you both feel it. This kiss, unlike the others, isn't a goodbye kiss, it's not an 'I'm sorry' kiss.

It's an 'I need you' kiss.

There's a flash of lightening and suddenly her hands are on your thighs and bending her body slightly she lifts you into the air, swallowing your squeal of surprise as your legs wrap instinctively round her waist.

"Good to see you kept up your work out regime." You pant next to her ear.

"Shut up." She growls into your neck, teeth sinking into the flesh causing your next wise crack to die in your throat and be replaced by a loud groan that's dwarfed by the thunder. She's walking now, in the general direction of your still open door, the open rectangle of light helping to guide her way. Her lips and teeth haven't left your neck and you know that you're going to wake up tomorrow covered in marks.

But you don't care.

All you care about is her, the feeling of her body pressed against yours, her lips on your skin. In this moment nothing else matters, your whole career could come crashing down around your ears, all you've worked for up in smoke and you wouldn't care.

You somehow make it into the room unscathed, she's still carrying you, kicking the door shut as she makes straight for the bed dropping you unceremoniously onto the covers. When she looks at you all vestiges of her earlier drunkenness have vanished, although you know that both of you are still far too intoxicated to describe anything under rational thought. Her eyes are bright and piercing, darkened with lust.

Then again it was rational thought that led to leave her in the first place so it makes sense in a warped way that your reunion is being dictated by completely irrational thought.

All thoughts are pushed from your brain however when she straddles your thighs, settling into your lap as her lips seek out your own again. Her arms slide round your neck as your own come to rest round her hips, pushing aside the wet material of the back of her shirt to lay your hands on soft, heated skin.

She bites down hard on your lip and you moan, the sound echoing round the room. Clearly liking what she heard she bites down again, smirking against your lips when your hands tighten reflexively on her skin.

"Chlo!" Her name comes out in a whine as you wrench your mouth away from hers, gasping for breath. Her mouth is instantly on your neck, hot kisses blazing a trail down your throat.

Now that her lips are away from yours some coherent thoughts are starting to make themselves known, although they're in constant danger of disappearing as her mouth explores your skin. You know that you're both moving _way_ too fast, what's happening right now is being fuelled more by anger than actual romantic feeling and you know that.

"Chloe maybe we should talk." It takes a lot of effort to get the words out, but you need to know. You need to know that she wants this, that she wants you.

"What's there to talk about?" her lips haven't stopped moving and are now by your collarbone, sucking softly. You're losing the battle quickly to keep your resolve about this and you know if you don't move now you never will.

With a load groan of frustration, you wiggle out from underneath her, displacing her into the mattress where she looks at you in confusion. Needing to put some distance between you, you retreat to the door leaning against the hard wood to support your shaking legs.

It's several moments of staring at your feet before you work up the courage to look at her. She propped up on her elbows, regarding you with an inquisitive stare. "What's wrong?"

"I just...isn't this a bit fast?" you still haven't quite gotten your breath back and the sight of her lying on your bed isn't helping matters.

"You kissed me." She points out. "I figured this is what you wanted."

"Of course it's what I want, god I've wanted it for so long." It's taking everything in you not to walk back over to the bed and climb on top of her, her eyes are calling you over, shinning with the sultry gaze you first noticed in the shower all those years ago.

But you stand your ground.

"I don't want this to be something either of us regrets, because I've got enough of those and most of them are about you anyway, what I did to you. I don't want to look back on this tomorrow and wish I'd done something differently, I want to wake up in the morning and know without a shadow of a doubt that I made the right call, and if the right call is us not doing this then we shouldn't. But I think we should at least talk about it before this goes any further, I don't want to get in the way of whatever you have going on with guitar guy. So yeah, we should talk."

It's probably the most you've said in a very long time and you were so focused on getting the words out that you hardly noticed that she's slipped off the bed and is making her towards you until she's only a couple of feet away.

"What if I don't want to talk?" she's toying with the buttons on her shirt as she speaks and it distracts you from answering for a moment.

"I, err still think we need to, I mean the big problem last year was that we didn't comm..."

"Beca. Shut up." Before you can process fully that she's interrupted again you find yourself crashing back against the door, her mouth insistent on yours. For a split second you consider pushing her away and demanding to talk but that idea vanishes from your brain the second her hands take your own and pin them against the door above your head. Clasping them there firmly she pulls her lips away and continues the path on your neck and collar bone that you had interrupted.

You head hits the door with a dull thud, eyes fluttering shut as her lips, tongue and teeth assault your skin, sharp pain juxtaposing with soothing kisses that have you gasping in pleasure in a matter of seconds.

You struggle weakly against your bonds, her fingers tighten around your wrists reflexively, a silent warning to keep still. You heed it immediately your hands stilling in the movements as you will her with your mind to return to your mouth, unable to get the request out.

Luckily she knows you well enough and a second later she's kissing you again, tongue battling your own for dominance. You take this opportunity to enact some revenge, sinking your teeth into her lower lip hard, before sucking it between your lips. The sound she makes sends arousal flooding through you and you clench your thighs together, looking for some friction. As if sensing your discomfort, she slips a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your centre, prompting a guttural moan to bubble low in your throat.

She presses again and your hips unconsciously grind down, the friction is delicious but not even close to what you need right now. As her hip pushes into you the third time you time it with a nip to her lower lip, the motion causes her grip to slacken on your wrists and you capitalise on it immediately. Pulling your hands out of her grasp you quickly reverse your positions, smirking at her gasp of surprise. Your hands are now free to wander and you waste no time running them over every inch of her body that you can reach, which is where you encounter your next problem.

Clothes.

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, the tremble in them giving away your inner nervousness. She makes no comment, merely places soft kisses to your jaw and neck as you finally work the garment loose, pushing it to the side you allow your fingertips to run over her exposed skin, which is hot under your touch.

Chloe moans softly when your nails rake over her abs, the muscles twitching deliciously and you can't help but do it again. Her own nails, which are buried in your hair scratch along your scalp, pulling your head back up to hers so she can kiss you again.

You're quite content to stand there and kiss her all night, you've missed the feel of her lips against your own more than anything else. You've lost count of the amount of times you've dreamt about it in the last year, only to wake up in the morning with the memory of the kiss and the disappointment that you can't have it. Chloe is a phenomenal kisser, the best. She has all kinds of kisses, and you love them all. There are the kisses she used to give you early in the morning when she knew you weren't quite awake that are soft, almost so soft that could barely feel them. There are the kisses she gave you when she was excited, peppered all over your face, neck, shoulders, any part of your body that she can reach. Then there were the passionate kisses she gave you, right before she brought you more pleasure than you'd ever felt in your life, but at the same time managed to be tender and loving. Tonight's kisses are nothing like this, they're something new and betray a deep long and urgency in both of you that's only been exacerbated by your time apart.

It seems that Chloe is a little more impatient than you because she's urging you backwards towards the bed, hands unbuttoning your own shirt much more deftly than you dispatched hers. Your knees hit the bed and you slump ungracefully onto the mattress as she slides the shirt off your shoulders and tosses it away. You shiver slightly as the cold air hits your damp skin and reaching up pull Chloe to you by the open sides of her shirt so she's standing between your legs.

For a moment you look at her, really look at her, once again your breath taken away by how beautiful she is. Her hair has started to dry and is curling round her face and shoulders, lone strands hang down over her eyes and you can't resist reaching up and brushing them to the side, tucking them behind her ears. She leans into your touch, right hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. The motion is surprisingly tender, given the rest of the evenings interactions and for the first time you're starting to see some of the old Chloe, the Chloe who looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world since the day you met, the Chloe who giggled whenever you were grumpy in the morning, the Chloe who had picked you up when you were at your lowest and ready to give up on your dreams.

The tender moment comes to an end when her eyes flicker down to your exposed chest, pupils dilating instantly, leaning down she captures your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless in seconds. A few seconds later her hands have discarded your bra and quickly move to palm your chest, the warmth that spreads from them instantly heats your cool skin, you moan your appreciation and pull her closer, struggling to get her damp shirt down her arms. You eventually manage and can't help but smile against her lips, fingers moving immediately to the clasp of her bra. Thankfully it comes undone first time and you can concentrate on the more important task at hand, reacquainting your hands and mouth with every inch of her skin.

It appears that once again she has other ideas, pushing you forcefully onto your back you find your hands once again pinned above your head, allowing her to press your bare chest together. Both of you moan at the contact and she breaks the kiss so she can press her forehead to yours, her eyes met yours and for a moment you're struck dumb, unable to move, unable to think, only able to stare right back at her. Your brain is working at a million miles an hour, and you can barely believe this is happening, you're expecting any minute to wake up and find it's all been a dream.

She seems to read your expression and with a devilish smirk lowers her lips to your chest just above your left breast and bites down, hard. Your sharp intake of breath has her smile widening as she kisses the sore area better before making her way down to your nipple, swirling her tongue expertly around it. Your back arches slightly off the bed before you can stop it, desperate for more of her touch. She reacts immediately, one arm retreating from your hands and coming to rest over your stomach, anchoring you in place.

"Ah, ah, ah." She tuts when you wiggle in protest. Only when your body stops moving does she once again take your nipple in her mouth, left hand tightening round your wrists and right arm pressing harder on your stomach, stopping the instinctive reaction of your body. You can't help the soft moan that leaves your mouth as her teeth scrape against the sensitive bud, the ache between your thighs is more intense than ever and your hips shift against the bed, seeking anything that will give you friction.

"Stay still." The command is husked by your ear, low and commanding. Both hands back pinning your wrists against the bed. You turn your head at the sound of her voice, lips straining for hers, but she moves her head out the way, chuckling low in her throat and nipping your earlobe sharply.

She's never been the dominant one in the bedroom when you were together, preferring to let you take the lead. But it appears that something has changed and she wants to take control, you don't know if it's the alcohol, the residual anger or the separation that has her so insistent. All you do know is that it might be the hottest thing you've ever seen and you feel yourself getting even wetter as she continues to kiss and bite your neck.

You decide to test how commanding she's willing to be and strain against her hold, hips rising off the bed and pressing against her thigh whilst letting out a breathy moan in her ear. She shudders against a you and a noise that can only be described as a growl leaves her lips, her right leg swings over you, straddling your hips and she leans back a little so you're staring at each other again, hair hanging down around your face.

"I told you to stay still." There's a serious glint in her eyes, which have darkened to an even more beautiful shade of blue. You've rarely seen her this way and it thrills you more than you care to admit.

"What if I don't?" you strain you face up towards hers as you speak, lips ghosting over her jaw, tongue tracing along her skin. She swallows hard and you see the motion in her throat, the sight causing a slow smirk to break out on your face. Her composure is back quickly however and she gives you a smirk of her own.

"Then I won't give you what you want." The words are spoken slowly, and accompanied by an equally slow, very deliberate roll of her hips. You groan at the motion, which not only pushes your hips together, but your bare chests as well.

"Fine." You breathe as she rolls her hips again, this time with a little more pressure, but nowhere near enough.

"Good girl." She purrs as her mouth returns to your chest, this time lavishing attention on the right nipple. You resist the urge to move, even though the feeling of her tongue is driving you insane and all you can think about is how there are other places you would much rather it was.

She rewards your patience by kissing slowly down your body, thankfully not pausing in her descent. It's been almost a year since you've had her and you don't know how much more waiting you can take. The encouraging noises coming out of your mouth as she trails her tongue along the waistband of your still damp jeans are testament to your impatience and you can feel the smugness radiating off her at how easily she has you coming undone.

With surprising swiftness, she divests you of your jeans and underwear, you can hear her shuffling around and assume she's taking off her own clothes but don't dare to look, just in case. Then she's back between your legs, lips caressing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs, breath tantalisingly close to where you need her the most. It's taking everything in you to keep your arms up by your head they're shaking from the effort of not burying themselves in her hair.

"You're doing very well." Your hips cant instinctively as her voice vibrates through your most sensitive area and she chuckles again. "You _were_ doing very well."

"Chlo!"

Suddenly her mouth is on you, tongue licking through your folds before finding your clit, here she starts a relentless pace that you completely weren't expecting and it throws you off, your head snaps back into the pillow thankful it's there to cushion the blow. Now you can't stop yourself, your hands are in her hair and you're urging her on, fingers digging into her scalp with a painful intensity, but she doesn't seem to mind, if anything her tongue becomes more insistent, moving down to your entrance and thrusting inside. You greet the motion with a loud moan and arch your back off the bed.

Suddenly her mouth is gone but you barely have time to miss its presence before two of her fingers instantly replace it, sliding easily into you even as her mouth reconnects with yours, the taste of yourself fresh on her tongue. The kiss is messy, you can't concentrate when her fingers are moving inside you and you end up panting against her mouth more than kissing it.

"I thought about this so many times." She mumbles the words against your chin. "I was so angry at you, but I never stopped thinking about this. About fucking you." The last three words are punctuated by three sharp thrusts and that mixed with hearing her curse has you clenching around her fingers. You know you're not going to last much longer, you can feel your orgasm coming, less creeping up on you and more like galloping towards you at full pelt. You'd usually be embarrassed that it took this little to get you to the edge, but it's been so long since you've had her inside you and the sensations she's evoking in you are too strong to contain. You feel like your hearts going to explode, it's beating so full of love for her, your walls are clenching more rapidly around her and you press your lips to hers in earnest, trying to convey without speaking, which you couldn't do even if you wanted to, all the things you're feeling.

Her lips move to your ear and her next four words are all it takes to push you over the edge and into oblivion.

"I love you Beca."

You scream, fingers cutting crescents into her shoulder as your body convulses wildly under her, stars exploding behind your eyelids which are squeezed tightly shut. The whole world seems to shrink, all you're aware of is her body pressed against yours, her fingers inside you and the last words she spoke to you ringing in your ears, fuelling the fire of your climax hotter and brighter than you've ever experienced.

You collapse back against the bed, body still trembling, aftershocks coursing through your body like electrical currents. You feel her stretch out next to you, lips pressing gently under your jaw and fingers brushing matter hair from your forehead. Finally you're able to open your eyes and turning your head slightly you are met with the full force of her gaze, the love you can see there surprises you and you want to speak but no words can do justice to how you feel about her in that moment, so you smile and kiss her deeply. She returns it enthusiastically, hand cupping your cheek to draw you closer, humming gently in approval.

"You didn't do a very good job of staying still." She whispers when you pull back, her eyes sparkling with mirth. With a surprising show of strength given how all of you limbs still feel like jelly you flip them so you're on top hand pressing down on her stomach, mere centimetres above her centre. The sparkle has gone from her eyes and has once again been taken over by lust as her own hands card through your hair, pulling you down to her.

"Let's see you stay still." You mumble against her lips, allowing your fingertips to trail over her hip and back up again, over abdominal muscles which twitch eagerly. You can tell she's working hard to stay still; you can see it in her face, your fingers continue their exploration of her body, now moving over her thighs, ghosting with the barest of touches against her inner thigh. She sucks in a sharp breath, but keeps still, her eyes trained on your face. She's looking at you as if she can't quite believe that you're there, like you might vanish at any second, and that scares her.

It strikes you then that as much as you're worried she was going to get up and walk out the door, she had legitimate reason to think that _you_ would. You've done it before, when your bond was stronger than ever, now, there's nothing to stop you in her eyes. You could leave and take her heart with it, because right now, lying naked beneath you, she's giving you everything she has.

This realisation has you leaning down and pressing a desperate kiss to her lips.

"I'm here." You murmur over and over again and kissing her until you can taste the salt from the tears that have leaked out down her cheeks. As if a switch is flipped she's clinging to you desperately, hands clawing at your back as if the motion will keep you anchored in place, its unnecessary, you have no plans to go anywhere. You realised a long time ago that she is your future, in every sense of the word there is nothing in this world you want to face without her by your side.

You want to show her exactly this, and do the only thing you can think of in that moment, the most intimate form of communication you have outside of singing, and you don't think you can force your vocal chords to work in that moment. Sliding your hand back down her body you slip your fingers through her folds, gently exploring her wetness before pressing gently against the bundle of nerves that's begging for your attention. The effect is instantaneous, her back arches so far off the bed it looks like she might snap and a heady gasp escapes her mouth which is still pressed fiercely against yours. You press against her clit again, harder this time and her gasp turns into a low moan, her hips straining upwards against your hand.

"Beca!" the strangled cry has a shiver running down your spine, and your index finger slips down to her entrance, coating it liberally with her arousal before you slide it gently inside up to the knuckle, swallowing her soft moans into your kiss. your pace starts slow, you want to reacquaint yourself with every noise she makes, commit them to memory forever so you never forget how perfect these moments are.

Her hips shift under you and you can tell she's getting impatient, she's never been shy to tell you when things aren't happening her way and you can never deny her. Adding a second finger draws another guttural moan from her and you can't help but smile against her lips as her hips buck wildly when your thumb finds her clit again, massaging in time with your thrusts.

As her panting becomes more erratic one of her thighs slips between your legs, pressing hard against your centre, you're not expecting it and you gasp as she starts moving against you. Your pace quickens as you grind down on her toned thigh, meeting every beat of your own fingers, your gasps and pants melding with hers until you've both had to abandon kissing, instead you press your forehead against hers. Her eyes are closed tightly shut and you can feel her body starting to tremble under you, her walls clenching around your fingers. She's so close and so are.

"Open your eyes baby." You manage to whisper. Her eyelids flutter open and you can see the tears shinning in her eyes as she locks eyes with you.

"Together?" it comes out as a question, a question with so many implications. Because now it's you giving her everything, this is you laying your heart on the line further than you ever have before. You're free falling into oblivion and you're hoping that she'll come with you, that you'll face it all with her.

"Together." She agrees with a breathy moan and it's all you both need. One more press of her thigh against you, one last thrust of your fingers and you're coming together. Both spiralling into the abyss, clinging to each other for dear life. You never want the moment to end, the feeling of coming together, your bodies, hearts and minds melding together as one.

You come back down to the earth to the sensation of her fingers stroking soft patterns into your back, and her lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. Lifting your head from her chest you stare at her, still not believing that she's here, that she's yours.

"I love you." You croak after a few moments where the only sounds have been your panting breaths.

"I love you." She replies immediately, and without hesitation. The conviction in your voice has your heart swelling and you bury your face in her neck, desperate not to cry but unable to stop the tears that leak from your eyes. She soothes you with soft noises, flicking off the light and pulling the crumpled sheets around you she folds her arms around you, all the while whispering in your ear. The words sound far off, but it feels like home, all the nights you've spent like this wrapped in her arms. You know you should probably talk, that your problems will be there in the morning but right now you can't muster the energy to do anything, you want to preserve this moment right now, to remember it forever. Chloe Beale makes you feel safe, you feel loved.

And as you drift on into the deepest sleep you've had in almost a year, you feel forgiven.

* * *

The morning light filtering into onto your face wakes you. Wincing fiercely, you groan softly turning your head and burying it deeper into your pillow.

Except instead of meeting fabric, your face burrows into soft skin. Raising your head, you take in the breath-taking sight that is Chloe Beale asleep, her bright red hair fanning out across the pillow. Face relaxed and more beautiful than ever before. Her arms are wrapped loosely around you and as you shift to get a better look at her they tighten reflexively, pulling you to her.

"Stop watching me sleep."

You giggle in a very uncharacteristic manner as she speaks without opening her eyes, you nuzzle her neck, peppering the soft tanned skin with kisses.

"Why would I when you're so beautiful?" you tease as she opens her eyes long enough to roll them at you before they droop shut again and she shifts so that her face is pressed into you.

"I missed you." She mumbles into your skin.

"I missed you so much." You tighten your grip on her. "But I'm never letting you go again." She looks up at your words and you meet her gaze, unwavering and sincere. You have never been more sure of anything in your life.

Then she's kissing you again, it's a kiss that contains all the words you want to say, you know should say, and the ones you never will. The kiss is the promise that this is the new beginning.

The harsh buzzing of your phone on your bedside table shatters your perfect moment, and with a loud groan you break the kiss.

"Who the fuck is that?!" she giggles as you scowl at the offending object as you swipe it off the table and drag the answer button across the screen.

"What?!"

The sound of your publicist's voice screeching down the phone at you causes you to wince.

"Slow down! What's going on?"

"I knew you wouldn't be able to do it! I just _knew_ you wouldn't be able to go two days without getting yourself splashed all over the front cover!"

"What the hell?" you bolt upright in bed. "I haven't done anything!"

"Check your damn messages!" your publicist huffs. Chloe's looking at you concerned as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and start to pace the floor, waiting for the messages that have come in overnight to load. You're wildly racking your brain to think of what you might have done to warrant being on the front page, did someone photograph you in the bar last night, you'd been seen out drunk before, why should this time be any different.

You can't help the laugh that bubbles in your throat as the photo you've been sent loads. It appears that what you took for a flash of lightening the night before in the rain was actually the flash of a photographer's camera. Splashed all over the internet is a slightly blurry, but very recognisable photo of you and Chloe embracing in the rain, your legs wrapped round her waist.

"I fail to see what's so funny!" your publicist is shouting again and it only makes you laugh harder. "The last thing we need is one of your one night stands to see this photo and go running off to the press to get her fifteen minutes of fame!"

You look back at the bed, she's watching you the same way she did at your first audition all those years ago, a lifetime, eyes sparkling in the way you thought you'd never see again and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face.

"Don't worry, this one isn't going anywhere."

She arches an eyebrow and slides sensually off the bed, sheets pooling round her feet as she stalks off to the bathroom.

"You never know; I might change my mind." With a wink that's part invitation, part promise she disappears into the bathroom and you've hung up on your publicist before she can even start to protest. Then you're following the redheaded girl of your dreams into the shower, determined to spend the rest of your days proving that she never needs to change her mind again.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed that and please let me know what you thought by leaving me a review! I have a couple of other ideas for this but feel this is a good place to leave it. There's an epilogue of sorts in my head that could function as its own one shot, or events from Chloe's perspective what do you think? Either way this story has been a joy to write so thank you for letting me share it with you all. Until next time!**

 **Pirate-x-Girls**


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